


No More Running

by mypoorfaves



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (aftercare!), AU, Angst, Beating, Blood, Crying, Fever, Gunshot, Hurt Victor, Hurt Yuuri, Injury, M/M, Poison, Post Apocalyptic AU, Unhappy Ending, Violence, Whump, Wound Cleaning, blood tw, wound treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 10:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11011752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypoorfaves/pseuds/mypoorfaves
Summary: Set in a post-apocalyptic AU. Victor and Yuuri have been on the run, surviving together. But things take a turn for the worse when Victor is injured.Contains depictions of violence and suffering, and bad language. See tags for full warnings.





	No More Running

**Author's Note:**

> So I was inspired by a sinfully delicious prompt on tumblr and managed to milk a whole 3000 word fanfic out of it. This is the whumpiest whump I have ever written, and also my first ever AU.
> 
> Heads up: the ending isn’t happy. Though if you’re really creative, I’m sure you could imagine a scenario where everything works out.

“It’s just a gunshot wound. It’s likely infected, but we’ll get you some help. Then you’ll be fine,” Yuuri rambles as he walks while supporting a limping Victor. He’s panicking and talking more to reassure himself than the fevered man draped heavily over his shoulder. He doesn’t respond, but Yuuri sees him grimace and nod out of the corner of his eye.

The world has gone crazy and wants Victor and Yuuri dead. Well, anyone _like_ Victor and Yuuri, who just so happen to have the wrong set of coding in their DNA. (Or the _right_ set of coding, they would argue.) Their genomes could unlock cures to previously incurable diseases and conditions. They’re being hunted because they could hold the key to saving the world, because _not_ saving the world keeps the economy from collapsing.

They had been labeled “impures”, and only those with such a name are told about the reality of the cruel world they live in and why they have to be eradicated before they meet their end. Why bother telling them, nobody knows. Maybe some figured they would accept their fate more willingly if they knew it was for a “good cause”. Well, good cause be damned, Victor and Yuuri had fought their fated demise and escaped. The two never knew each other back in regular society, but have since bonded through many years of struggle and survival together in a life on the run.

They’ve been walking for more than half of the day now and they’re both more than a little worse for wear. The autumn wind is cold and biting, and food and supplies are running low, as is morale. Yuuri is breathing heavily with the effort of supporting Victor as they walk, and the latter is stumbling from the hole in his leg courtesy of a recent ambush.

Yuuri hauls Victor further up his shoulder, keeping him upright. He can still remember the fight vividly; the sights and sounds refuse to leave his memory, and likely won’t for a while. He hears Victor yelling then promptly collapsing as he takes a bad hit, the group of survivors that they had been tagging along with shouting for them to flee, telling them of a base of allies some distance away. That’s where the two are headed now. Yuuri briefly wonders if the others are still alive, but decides it’s best not to dwell on it. Victor and Yuuri are alive for now, and that’s all that matters.

Yuuri spies a shelter in the distance, though he’s unsure if it’s their destination. As they get closer, he sees it’s a decent-sized shed. It’s abandoned and looks worn down, but with the sun setting soon and Victor leaning heavily on Yuuri as he fights to stay conscious, it will have to suffice for tonight. Yuuri readjusts Victor’s weight with a grunt and leads them inside. They collapse onto the ground panting and Victor groans as the impact jars his leg. “Yuuri…” he grits.

“It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine,” he repeats.

“Yuuri,” Victor says more firmly and Yuuri looks at him attentively. His back and head are supported by the wall behind them, and his normally stunning blue eyes seem more dull than usual, clouded with pain and fevered exhaustion. His face is smeared with dirt in places (as is Yuuri’s), and a bead of sweat trickles down by his temple. “I’ve had infected wounds before, but this feels too different,” Victor tells him gravely. “It’s like I can feel each of my cells dividing and combusting in my leg, and it’s slowly spreading. And it _hurts_. I’ve felt like this since the very moment the bullet entered my leg. I think this is some type of poison.”

“Poison or infection, it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna be fine,” Yuuri asserts again. “You have to be. We’ll find an antidote. We’ll find medicine. Something, anything! I’m not giving up on you!”

He takes off his knapsack, rummages in it and pulls out a bottle of rubbing alcohol. There’s not much of it left, but it will have to do. They still have some bandages too. Yuuri hopes it will be enough.

Victor is sitting with his eyes closed but he’s evidently still awake if the occasional furrow of his brows and quiet winces are anything to go on. His legs are outstretched in front of him, and his left calf has a dark red stain on it that has soaked through his jeans. Yuuri removes his knife from the holster on his thigh and uses it to cut the pant leg and expose the wound. It takes a while as the blade has dulled from use and the material is thick. The last of it is caked to the wound, and Victor gives a sharp hiss and his head thumps against the wall behind him as it’s peeled away.

Yuuri swallows hard as he finally gets a good look at the wound. Yuuri has experienced his fair share of gunshots, but this one is bad. It’s a nasty gash, swollen and oozing blood and some other fluid. The skin around the wound is tinted a dark purple colour, and Yuuri can clearly see the blood vessels underneath the surrounding skin. Okay, not normal. Definitely poison. Poison bullets. Well, that’s certainly new.

They would have to find an antidote somehow. But in order to find an antidote, they would need to know the type of poison they’re dealing with, which they don’t. Or at least know the symptoms, which they also don’t. All he has at this point is a fever and the odd skin colouration, as well as the sensation Victor mentioned earlier. If they wait too long for other symptoms to show, it might be too late.

Yuuri takes a deep breath, getting his mind back on track. They would deal with that later. For now, he opens the antiseptic and the sharp smells fills the room. Victor opens his eyes as it reaches his nose, his expression one of visible apprehension. This next part would not be pleasant.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri already apologizes, lips tight. Victor’s are as well.

“It’s okay. You have to do this,” he says grimly.

“It’s gonna hurt. A lot.”

“Don’t remind me,” Victor says dryly.

Yuuri averts his eyes. They fall onto the ripped fabric he had cut off earlier. Parts of it are still relatively clean. He uses his knife to salvage most of it before bunching it and handing it to Victor.

“Bite down on this. It should help.” He nods and does as told, laying himself flat on the ground.

Yuuri moves by Victor’s leg. He props his right leg on Victor’s left above the wound while one of his hands holds below it to keep him in place.

“Okay, here we go,” he exhales, and pours.The reaction is immediate. Victor’s body arches sharply underneath Yuuri and he has to fight to keep him in place as he cries out around the cloth. His eyes screwed tightly shut already have tears glistening at the edges. “I’m sorry,” Yuuri says at Victor’s evident agony. He tightens his hold, applies more antiseptic and feels tears of his own gather as Victor continues to writhe. Yuuri puts the bottle down and trades it for some wet bandages as Victor takes a short moment away from the pain to breathe. Yuuri wastes no time and wipes at the trail of dried blood on Victor’s leg, then adds more solution to the cloth and dabs it to the wound.

Victor yells around the fabric and kicks his leg and it slips out of Yuuri’s grasp. Victor has tears streaming down his face now, and his forehead is gleaming with sweat leaving his silver bangs plastered to the skin. His chest is heaving with heavy breaths, and Yuuri wonders if it’s more the fever or the pain that has him like this.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says again. “Just a bit more, I promise, okay?” He doesn’t wait for a response and he secures Victor’s leg underneath him again. He cleans the wound more carefully this time, and Victor thrashes less, even if only slightly. Yuuri then moves to dress the injury. He has to hold the leg up off the ground while wrapping the bandage around it, so it’s harder to keep Victor from moving. Luckily it’s not much of an issue. Victor is no longer having acid poured onto his open wound, though the pressure on it still causes him to turn his head and moan. Yuuri finds himself apologizing at each one.

The bleeding had stopped some time ago, but a steady but slow flow has started again at the agitation, already staining the white cloth. It shouldn’t bleed through too badly, though. Yuuri wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and exhales one last time. He’s no doctor, but it should do for now. He seals the cleaning solution and puts it in his knapsack, then withdraws a water bottle and pours a generous amount of the liquid onto some clean bandages held in his hand before putting the rest of the supplies back.

He kneels by Victor’s head. His eyes are still squeezed shut, tear tracks clearly visible from each eye, his silver brows furrowed. His jaw is set tightly around the material in his mouth, and his nostrils flare with each pained breath. Yuuri takes the wet bandage and drags it across Victor’s sweat-soaked face.

His eyes flutter open and the sensation and he moans contently this time. “It’s all over now,” Yuuri soothes. “You did so well, Victor.” He drags the wet bandage down to his neck, eliciting a soft hum in response as Victor’s eyes begin to close again. “Rest for now,” Yuuri says gently and kisses his forehead.

He removes the bunched material from Victor’s mouth who gives a shaky sigh of relief. Yuuri runs a hand through his damp hair and guides Victor’s head to rest in his lap before he quickly falls asleep, exhausted. Yuuri remains awake, keeping an ear out for any signs of danger while watching over Victor, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest. It isn’t long before he too starts to nod off.

～

Yuuri is awake and alert at the sound of footsteps outside. They aren’t thunderous, but light and trained, and there are many of them. He recognizes what it means immediately.

“Shit,” Yuuri curses under his breath. He doesn’t dare move, just strains his ears and listens.

“Yuuri?” Victor’s tired voice whispers, and any further questions are cut off by a sharp ‘ _shh’_ and a finger on his lips.

 _“Shit,”_ Yuuri hisses again, heart pounding so loud in his chest he’s sure whoever is out there can hear it. Victor certainly can, since he traces a finger over his cheek. The touch is feather-light, but calming.

A voice booms from outside. “We know you’re in there. There’s no point in trying to escape. We have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”

Yuuri’s heart continues to pound, eyes panicked and glued on the door. It’s the only one in the shed, no other way out. Victor lifts his head from Yuuri’s lap and sits up, turning Yuuri’s face towards his and bringing their foreheads together. Their breaths are both shallow, Yuuri’s from fear and Victor’s more likely from the temperature his forehead is radiating against Yuuri’s own.

“What do we do?” Victor asks.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri sighs after a long pause. He pulls away.

“We can’t hand ourselves over to them,” Victor says.

“We can’t fight.”

“We can run,” Victor suggests. “We always do.”

“There’s no way. They have us surrounded. And you’re injured,” Yuuri points out.

“What other choice do we have?”

“Victor…” He bites his lip in frustration and anxiety, wishing Victor would listen to him and think more logically about the situation.

“Yuuri, these people have been hunting us for years over something we can’t even control! Something that could _save_ people! I’m not just going to give up,” Victor argues.

Yuuri thinks about it, then stands.

“Then neither am I.”

Victor attempts to stand with him, but the fire in his leg coupled with Yuuri’s hand gently but firmly pushing down on his shoulder forces him back to the ground.

“Yuuri?” Victor questions.

“You’re staying here.”

“What? I thought we were running?” Confusion and irritation mingle in Victor’s voice.

“I told you, we can’t. I’m done with running. But I’m not going down without a fight.” Yuuri draws his pistol from his bag.

The voice from outside booms again, loud and impatient. “I don’t have all day!” The two turn anxiously towards the sound.

“Yuuri, you _can’t_ ,” Victor desperately begs and clutches Yuuri’s wrist.

He says nothing and stares at the door while biting his bottom lip, his back to Victor.

“They’ll kill you,” Victor whispers.

“They’ll kill us both instantly if we try and run.” He turns and kneels down to Victor with tears in his eyes and he cups his face. Victor returns the gesture and the the two connect their lips for a sweet but brief moment. Victor has tears streaming his face again. The sight reminds Yuuri of the night before, Victor in such excruciating agony. The sights and sounds are engraved in his mind. He won’t let himself forget it, and he sure as hell won’t let it happen again.

“No more running,” Yuuri resolves. He stands slowly and begins to walk away, Victor’s hand held lovingly in his own until the very last moment when they grow too far apart and the contact is lost. Heart aching, but determined, Yuuri steps outside.

He’s greeted by a line of black-clad men and women, all with stern faces and raised guns. Their leader is standing in the middle, a tall and stocky male with a buzz cut, a long scar cutting through his right eyebrow and a less-gruesome one on the left side of his face. His muscles are big and defined, visible even underneath his uniform. Its design is the same as those around him, but with many more stars and medals pinned to it. Yuuri wonders how many people this man had to kill to earn them all.

Yuuri has his gun in his hand at his side. He walks forward slowly and stops when ordered. His brown eyes survey around him, sharp and calculating. He takes in the scenery of the forest around them, dimly lit by the barely-risen sun. The air is crisp with the smell of dew and silent except for the chirp of the birds and other wildlife. It would have been peaceful to Yuuri if he wasn’t completely surrounded and held at gunpoint. He counts the number of opponents and draws up possible battle plans and escape routes, none of which would actually work without taking several bullets. Yuuri knows a lost battle when he sees one; this one is lost before it’s even begun.

He tosses the pistol aside and it clatters to the ground some distance away.

“We’ll go with you. But please save him.” His voice betrays him and wavers, the request coming out as more of a beg than a condition to their surrender.

Their leader smiles menacingly and stalks towards Yuuri, kicking the gun further out of reach without so much as a second glance. His own gun, a much larger weapon, hangs from a thick strap around his neck. He circles Yuuri as the latter stands rooted in place, like predator and prey. Everyone else still has their guns aimed and ready to fire at will. The only thing Yuuri dares move are his eyes. Even the rise and fall of his chest is carefully controlled.

The leader is behind Yuuri now and it’s paining him not to turn around. He instead forces his gaze straight ahead, on no-one and nothing and focuses on stilling his racing mind and heart. This is the only option, Yuuri tells himself. Running is out of the question. Fighting this many, with so little ammo, all while defending Victor would be suicide, and Yuuri dying would be a fate worse than death for Victor, worse than whatever these people are planning to do to them. Or so Yuuri can only hope.

The man behind him gives a sadistic huff of amusement, and the next thing Yuuri knows he’s on his knees. There’s an intense pain in the back of his head and his vision is a flash of blinding white light.

“You should have run while you had the chance,” the boss sneers. Yuuri’s being held upright by his hair, the scarred face focusing in front of him. “It’s always more fun when they try and run,” he comments almost wistfully, then throws Yuuri to the ground face-first. The man turns to his followers and bellows an order, and they move to the shed. Yuuri remains on the ground, a foot on his back keeping him in place. Even if it wasn’t there, he wouldn’t try to get up.

“Sir! He’s gone!” an underling reports a moment later. Yuuri’s eyes widen in shock.

With a tut of disapproval, the foot moves from Yuuri’s back to press down on his head. “Where is he?” the leader demands. Yuuri lets out a pained gasp, but nothing more; he won’t give him what he wants. The foot twists and presses down further and Yuuri grits his teeth as the question is repeated.

“Go to hell,” Yuuri spits with all the venom he can muster. The man above him growls and the foot is gone from his head and kicked harshly into his side. This time Yuuri does cry out in pain. The foot rolls him onto his back and presses hard and sharp into the very spot he was just assaulted, and Yuuri cries out again. His ribs are surely bruised, if not broken.

“Search the area. He can’t have made it far.”

Tears escape Yuuri’s eyes, and he’s not sure if it’s from the physical pain or the dread of what is to come. If he and Victor had only gone willingly, they might have still had a chance. Nobody actually knows what happens before “impures” die, just that they do. They would likely undergo scientific experiments before then, but they would need to be alive for that, right? Once Victor had been cured and healed, they could have planned an escape and made a run for it then. But now? Victor won’t survive on his own. Not to mention he’ll likely be shot on sight if he’s found. And as for Yuuri…There’s no hope for either of them now. Not that there was ever much hope from the start.

Yuuri allows more tears to fall. They roll down his cheeks and leave drops on the ground. He cries them silently; sobbing would aggravate the immense pain in his ribs. Another blow lands, and another and another. He loses track of where and how many; the only thing that registers is the pain. When they finally relent, Yuuri is left bloody, bruised and barely breathing. Some underlings sneer at him, hurl insults then take his body and drag it along the ground as they head back. He has no idea where they are going. The rough terrain creates new wounds.

This time, Yuuri does sob. His breath hitches painfully in his chest as he wonders how the world ever could have ended up like this, and hopes with all of his being that Victor will be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> *rubs hands together evilly and gleefully*
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I appreciate every single comment!


End file.
